


Difficult Questions

by orphan_account



Category: In the Heights - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Benny is a good guy, Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Families of Choice, Fluff and Angst, Gay!Sonny, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Kid Fic, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Police Brutality, Racism, Three Things, Time Skips, not how to deal with a friend coming out btw, to some extent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 20:39:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6344335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>News travels pretty fast in the barrio, and surrounded by gossip, who is Sonny meant to turn to when he has some really touch questions he needs answering? Luckily, he's got a surrogate older brother figure hanging around - poor Benny.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings in the tags. More spoilery warnings in the end notes, if you're worried about triggers.
> 
> Also! Only just remembered to tag it as underage - the participants are 17 and 18, which is actually legal where I am, and it's offscreen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Sonny is seven; Benny is thirteen)

Really, Benny should have been warned off by the comically grave sincerity in Sonny’s expression. At seven years old, the kid is barely as tall as the Rosarios’ front desk – if you don’t count the curls he isn’t, anyway. Not that Benny is exactly allowed to be behind the desk, but if Mr Rosario catches him he’ll just have to say _isn’t Nina meant to be watching Sonny, though sir?_ Because Sonny running wild around the dispatch, which he apparently is, is just asking for a disaster.

Which brings him back to his current problem: Sonny’s concentrating little pout.

“What’s up, kiddo?” Benny tries, hesitantly. It’s times like this that make him kinda wish he knew Sonny’s real name to use it against him; although, if the relation to _Usnavi_ is anything to go on, there’s a real chance that his birth certificate actually says ‘Sonny’.

“I have a question.” he’s told, in the tone of a proclamation. _Uh oh_. Sure, kids in the barrio grow up real fast in the barrio, but surely seven is too young for this-

“Please don’t ask me where babies come from.”

Sonny regards him with a blend of contempt and self-assured superiority that looks really weird on his small face, and says, “Storks.” matter-of-factly. Benny suspects he has been taught that just in case anyone asks.

“So what is it?”

It’s like busting open a dam.

“I tried to ask Usnavi-” Sonny babbles, breathless. “-but he said he couldn’t tell me or Abuela would kill him and then probably resurrect him just to kill him again, or at least tell him off, and I didn’t think Nina would know, so...”

Wordlessly, Benny raises an eyebrow. Sonny beams apologetically, then gets his best serious face on to finally squeeze the words out.

“Are we poor, Benny?”

_Fuck._

No wonder Usnavi wouldn’t tell him, and of course with Benny’s luck Sonny would manage to catch him on his own, without Nina or her parents in sight. Sonny might be small, but he’s deceptively observant: no way in hell has he not heard Benny and the others joking about how ‘wealthy’ the Rosarios are. He wouldn’t ask this in front of them.

Benny doesn’t think he ever thought to quiz anyone on this. He’s pretty sure he figured it out on his own, somewhere between his automatic exclusion from any field trips costing more than ten dollars and being teased about his free lunches. You just got to go about it like Vanessa does, hold your head up high and glare anyone who laughs into the dirt – except that when Vanessa sits with Benny at lunch she always starts by slamming her tray down next to him and Usnavi and calling everyone not from the barrio _fucking rich-ass gringos_ under her breath. Which is not vocabulary Sonny needs at his age, not unless Benny wants to give the salon something to tut over.

“Yeah, um,” he whispers, going for casual and landing somewhere firmly in the range of ‘very, very worried’. Whatever. If Sonny thinks they’re sharing a big secret, maybe he won’t repeat it to his family. “Kind of, a little.”

Sonny nods solemnly and Benny is struck by the realisation, somewhat retroactively, that he probably has no idea what that means.

“You know those kids you see in, like, Africa? On the TV?”

Perplexed, Sonny just crosses his arms and waits for elaboration.

“Well, you know how there’s always some white guy asking for money ‘cause they’re so poor they’re starving?”

Shit, shit, back up, the kid looks like his tiny heart is breaking.

“We’re not like that, are we?” Benny concludes, rushing a little so that Sonny doesn’t manage to convince himself that he has to adopt the lifestyle of a Ethiopian slum child. “We just have to be smarter with our money sometimes.”

Sonny, who has spent most of his life since he learned his numbers being told that _money’s for grown-ups, just leave it alone, alright, stay away from it, STOP EATING LOOSE CHANGE,_ brightens immediately at the suggestion that this revelation won’t actually affect him. He’s wrong, of course. But if he’s lucky he won’t realise it for a few years. Abuela Claudia has a way with numbers, not to mention having been around long enough that half the block owes her, which means that Sonny and Usnavi never really, really want for anything. Which reminds him, actually-

“But don’t tell your abuela or she’ll skin me, okay?”

Sonny giggles, back to his usual self, and leans up on the desk. “She’s _your_ abuela too.”

“Uh, not really.” Benny says, shifting awkwardly and reaching up to rub the back of his neck.

“Sure she is!” protests Sonny. “She came to your last parent-teacher conference.”

Benny flushes red, trying to pretend he hadn’t almost cried when his mom said she’d miss another one and he ended up in a loop of thoughts of how mad his teacher was going to be, that the slight feeling of embarrassment at the fact that Ms Claudia felt the need to look out for him was nothing compared to the utter humiliation of everyone staring at the kid in the corner no one came for. Again.

“And Mr Rosario came the year before that, but it’s not like he’s my dad.” he shoots back.

God, that was worse. Sonny’s nose scrunches up in confusion as Benny remembers Nina hurrying to his door to ask if he wanted a lift to the parents’ evening and then her father calling _ah, I know you well enough to listen to some woman complain about you, get in_ when Benny tried to explain that he wasn’t going. Escaping judgemental stares wasn’t worth Kevin asking him if he’d finished his math homework ‘for once’ next time he went to the dispatch.

“Don’t you think Nina’ll be looking for you?” he says, an obvious diversion that nevertheless works; Sonny pales dramatically and flees.

And Benny hopes he never has to do anything like that for Sonny again.

But no way would he be that lucky.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Sonny is thirteen; Benny is nineteen)

“Benny! Benny!”

“Who the fuck is shouting?!”

Alright, he has no shame. Or, at least, little enough shame that he doesn’t see any reason not to stumble onto the fire escape in just his boxers. Daniela’s going to flip out and everyone’s going to know by tomorrow, but _someone_ is screaming for him at three in the morning and he can’t sleep through it.

Any of the bewildered anger that may have been building dissipates at the sight of a tearful Usnavi shifting from foot to foot in the light of the nearest streetlamp.

Before he can ask what’s wrong, Usnavi is telling him, his voice the kind of rapid-fire semi-Spanish that usually pisses Benny off.

“M-Me and Sonny stayed out p-pretty late, _pero, no pensé que-_ I didn’t think anything would happen, I mean, it’s not like there’s a curfew, right? But-”

“Yo, _breathe_.”

“ _Lo siento_ , sorry, sorry- but-” He’s shaking now, voice cracking as he roughly wipes away tears with the back of his hand. “Some cops were around and- and they grabbed Sonny, and, man, he didn’t do anything- I m-mean, they said he looked like a suspect...”

“You need bail.” Benny nods, numbly calm despite the sudden racing of his heart, and dives back into his tiny flat to find the sock he has stuffed full of tips from both his jobs, all to the sound of Usnavi yelling, “I got, like, fifty dollars!”. Mr Rosario won’t let him work full time at the cab company yet, but he can’t stop him from waiting tables at the weekends to make up rent.

The only clothes he can find are his casual ‘absolute pinnacle of summer’ cargo shorts and t-shirt, but whatever, Usnavi won’t care. Benny knows he’s a panicked last resort before actually running around the neighbourhood with a hat and begging; Abuela Claudia is no help when it comes to the police. You think they’re racist _now_? She moved here in the ‘forties, compulsively freezes up in the face of officers. Go figure.

“This’ll be enough. This’ll be enough.” he tells Usnavi as he hurls out the door of his apartment building. “And step away from the driver’s side, man, like fuck are you driving like this.”

“ _De acuerdo_ , whatever, c’mon!”

The journey is punctuated with Usnavi’s best creative swearing and no small amount of tension, but Benny sticks to the speed limit the whole time.

“What the fuck,” his friend whines at the third red light, and Benny very narrowly resists the urge to roll his eyes. They’re both worried, they’re both stressed. It’s okay. “Could you move any slower?”

“Really? You wanna get pulled over for speeding _now_? Plus, Mr Rosario won’t hire me for real if I’ve got points on my license, and who’s gonna pay bail then?”

Usnavi pulls his legs up onto the seat with a heavy sigh, knees to the chest, and leans his head on the glass. In Benny’s crappy car, he knows, that shit’s not comfortable. Putting your forehead on the window is a fun and easy way to give yourself a concussion; either Usnavi’s going for catharsis or he feels guilty enough over Sonny’s arrest that he thinks he deserves the headache.

“Little homie,” Benny says, gently. “You can say a million Hail Mary’s later if you want, okay? Just chill out for the moment.”

The station itself is very cold. Benny recognises it as the same kind of cold that the company sometimes gets when the ACs in the cars are playing up (again) and everyone is taking the chance to blast fans when they’re in the building. The thought that Sonny must be shivering won’t leave him alone.

He’s in on a charge of resisting arrest, which is probably bullshit, and just makes Benny want to scream _what were you going to arrest him for in the first place?_ But Benny and Usnavi don’t argue: just pay up and collect the anxious bundle of limbs and curls that is Sonny de la Vega right now from his perch on a cell bench.

Usnavi throws his arms around his little cousin the second they’re out – he has this bruise forming on his cheek, presumably from ‘resisting’, and his lip is wobbling, and his eyes are big and round and puppyish.

“Yo, we’re gonna go get you some, like, some bruise cream or something, and a bandaid if you want one, and some fucking ice cream ‘cause why not-”

Sonny looks up from where he’s buried his head in his cousin’s shoulder as Usnavi starts up the diatribe again, and there’s still hurt and upset and a strain of confusion that Benny’s only seen once before on his face despite the shaky smile. “Ice cream sounds good.” he mumbles, trying to sound grown-up, and for the second time in his life Benny looks at the youngest of their little trio and thinks _oh no._

*

It’s early (or late, depending on how you think of it) enough that the piragua guy has gone to sleep – or, like, whatever he does, because neither Benny nor anyone else has ever seen the guy eat or knows where he lives. In any other circumstances, turning to the Seven/Eleven slightly downtown would be a betrayal of the bodega and the piragüero, but it feels justified right now. Usnavi grabs a handful of Benny’s leftover sock cash and dashes inside; Sonny slips into the passenger seat to lean his head on Benny’s shoulder. Benny thinks he should maybe be canonised: patron saint of underpaid taxi drivers, bail money, and patience with little kids whose hair goes in your mouth when they rest their heads on you.

“Man,” sighs Sonny, in the voice of a dude who is exhausted enough to slip onto a whole ‘nother plane of existence. Benny sounded like that for a solid chunk of finals week. “Why did they do that? Just – _why_?”

He wishes he didn’t know what Sonny’s asking, or the answer, but he does. _Sorry Abuela,_ he thinks, wincing, _forgive me_ ; then wonders when this kid made the shift from ‘pesky younger cousin of my Dominican best friend’ to ‘surrogate younger brother’; then concludes that it was a long, long time ago. Online business schools generally seemed to make the assumption that those looking at them would have, you know, access to resources and money, and were therefore mainly useless to Benny – but he uses a tip he saw in one of them now to gather all the information he has to the front of his mind, everything he knows about American racism and police brutality and the perception of Latinos in the media.

Finally, he takes a deep breath like he’s about to dive in somewhere dark and cold, and tells him the awful truth.

And Sonny goes quiet like only a guy realising the world is against him can.

The next day, Usnavi all but throws Benny’s usual stuff down on the counter and jabs the buttons on the register with tangible malice, glaring the whole time. _How dare you_ , Usnavi’s gaze snarls, and Benny hopes his expression manages to communicate his apologetic internal reply of _he has to know_ and _this is why he didn’t ask you._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Sonny is seventeen; Benny is twenty three)

This time, it’s Benny that starts it. Or – technically – it’s a combination of sweet Carla and her waggling her eyebrows at him and Usnavi sending him one of the unique Usnavi™ texts, expressive and insane. Complicated syntax, his _ass_ : if the store ever did fall through for any reason, Usnavi could keep his head above water by offering himself up to linguistics professors as a case study.

_¡wepa! will not be at bodega to day ben am at vanessas (no pare sigue jaja) but i want u to look my cousin deep in the eyes and tell him hes grown now + i’m hella disgusted and i dont wanna know!!!!!!! thx_

Anyway, what the eyebrows and the somewhat cryptic message culminates in is Benny swaggering into the store, expecting to find Sonny ten feet tall and glowingly proud of himself. Probably a million innuendos dropped before Sonny finally cracks and announces that he spent the night at his girlfriend’s place yesterday.

But the reality of it is a kid with his hair rucked up wrong like he’s been running his hands through it and the dark circles of a completely sleepless night under his eyes.

“You look tired.” he smirks, quashing down the hint of unease at Sonny’s unhappy glare. Little guy’s just cranky because he didn’t manage his eight hours of rest is all. He’s fine, right?

“You,” Sonny snaps, jabbing a finger at him from behind the counter. “Can fuck right off.”

“Oh, really, ‘cause from what I hear you’re the one doing the-”

He freezes as Sonny sighs, beginning to look like he’s about to cry. “Man,” the kid sighs. The word is at least three syllables longer than it needs to be. “Don’t, c’mon.”

“Shit.” Benny breathes. When he needs to, he moves fast, which means that Sonny yelps and jumps back in surprise when Benny’s hands land on his shoulders, suddenly behind the counter. He could take the time to explain himself, laugh it off for a moment to ease the tension and say _remember when you were nine and Abuela Claudia’s AC broke, and you almost got sunstroke lying on your fire escape to try and evade the heat? Remember how I opened the hydrant to cool you down and we both ran when Usnavi yelled? I can still shift it, right?_ But he doesn’t. He ducks down just slightly so he can look straight into Sonny’s eyes. conscious of where they all used to worry that he’d get a scar where the cop punched him, and speaks very seriously.

“Buddy, what happened? I want you to tell me _right now_. Like, right now – did she make you or something?”

“No!” Sonny cuts him off, offended. “Christ, Benny, no. It was my idea- I mean, it was both of our- We were both... fully consenting, alright?”

The face of Sonny’s girlfriend is vague in Benny’s memory. They’d made jokes about him dating an older woman, because she’s a senior, a year older than him, and Vanessa had made an uncharitable comment about the girl’s weave. “Just my professional opinion.” she’d joked, smoothing down his ruffled feathers, as Carla nodded sagely and her own extensions bobbed around her shoulders. That’s all he can recall, though. If she was bad to Sonny, surely Usnavi would have told him, wouldn’t he?

When the question comes this time, it’s sudden and coloured with a kind of built up panic that is new to Benny but seems horrifically familiar to Sonny.

“You gotta promise you’ll keep it a secret.” he begs. He looks frightened and very young, the spectres of his seven and thirteen year old selves almost tangible beside him, and Benny catches himself wondering _why is it always me._ “I don’t wanna – don’t wanna be _that_ guy, Benny.”

He waits for a nod of assent to continue.

“Look. You’re a ladies guy. I mean, you clearly like... sex and stuff. But it’s alright not to, right?”

Oh.

_Oh._

“Of course it is,” Benny says, incredibly cautiously, and with the distinct sense that he’s treading on thin ice. “Nina’s college friend is asexual, and she-”

“I mean sex with girls.” Sonny blurts.

And BAM. Benny is now officially out of his depth. Wonderful.

It’s not that he doesn’t know what to say, because he – kind of – does; it’s just that internally he’s scrambling for possible courses of actions to steer this back into the safe waters of Things Benny Knows About.

“You know it’s not a big deal if you’re gay.” (Even though Benny has no experience and suspects that this is actually a pretty huge deal to Sonny.) “We’re not going to publicly burn you or anything.”

“You don’t get it, man!”

Sonny doesn’t seem angry, so Benny assumes it’s safe to shrug in an attempt to communicate that, yes, he absolutely does not get it and would appreciate some explanation.

“Usnavi’s Catholic. Abuela was mega Catholic. I never bothered to ask the Rosarios, but there _is_ a framed photo of the pope in their front room.”

So that’s what he was worried about-

“Plus, people gossiped about Jose and Julio for weeks, and I bet it would have gone on longer if it hadn’t been two days before the Blackout.”

-Alright, so maybe there’s a whole conglomerate of things he’s worried about. It’s not the only blackout they’ve had, but Benny knows which one he means – it hurts less to say ‘the Blackout’ than it does to say ‘the week Abuela died’, or ‘the week the Rosarios sold the dispatch’, or ‘the week we won the lotto’.

“And what if Usnavi didn’t want me living with him anymore?” Sonny finishes, shoulders starting to shake as his voice trembles and his eyes brim up. “He’s the only family I got – I don’t know what I’d do without him or the store-”

Benny almost visibly relaxes as they veer back towards a question he can actually answer with some surety. Sonny’s still upset, but that’s okay, because he can fix it.

“I’m not an expert,” he says, softly. His arms close around Sonny despite how the kid tries to squirm out of it, because this sure as hell isn’t the sort of thing Benny would want to face without a hug. “But I know Usnavi, and I know there’s absolutely nothing you could do to make him hate you, okay? Nothing.”

 _It’s gonna be okay._ He doesn’t need to say it, thankfully, but that’s the sentiment he’s trying to get across here. And if it isn’t okay, Sonny is exactly the kind of guy that will _make_ it okay: Benny has a sudden vision of his young friend shirtless on the top of a pride parade float, inspired by the night last year when Nina had to drive into the city and fish him out of the riots that had sprung out of anti-racism protests. He’s as smart as Nina is, if maybe a little more driven in terms of action rather than words. His words won’t fail him, though, not when there’s still a chunk of the lotto money sitting in the safe under Usnavi’s bed, because Benny and everyone else on the block know exactly who’s going to be the second kid to go to college.

Yeah, he’ll be just fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Sonny asks Benny about the poverty that the residents of the Heights face, he asks him why he was targeted for discrimination by police (Racism), and finally he looks for confirmation that it's okay to be gay.


End file.
